


Kiss My Grits

by annie_reckson



Series: The Full Moon Cafe [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, First Time, M/M, Restaurant!AU, alcohol use, pulling each other's pigtails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:16:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie_reckson/pseuds/annie_reckson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time in his life when Saturdays meant something. Or, to be more specific, when they meant not having to do anything. Relaxing, cartoons, sleeping in. Now all a Saturday means is that he has a brunch shift starting at 8, and even though he was trying to be responsible by passing out at two in the morning rather than four, he still feels miserable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes a lot of cues from the movie Waiting (which, if you haven't seen, you should definitely watch, especially if you're a server) so if you HAVE seen the movie, there's a lot of in-jokes thrown in that you'll probably like.
> 
> But, if you haven't seen it, then don't worry. I've borrowed heavily from it, but this fic definitely doesn't follow it religiously. So if you like a heavily sarcastic Stiles, a pretty sarcastic Derek, and AUs, then you'll most likely like this.

A hideously shrill noise erupts from somewhere near Stiles’ right ear and he blindly waves his arm around until his fingers land on his phone. With an irritated sigh, he shuts the alarm off and curls back in on himself to try and gain a few more minutes of sleep. It’s fruitless, he knows, but he can’t help it. Ever since he graduated high school a year and a half ago, Stiles doesn’t so much wake up with a start as with a shuffling grumble.

And really, he doesn’t think anyone can blame him. After all, it is Saturday. There was a time in his life when Saturdays meant _something_. Or, to be more specific, when they meant _not having to do anything_. Relaxing, cartoons, sleeping in.

Now all a Saturday means is that he has a brunch shift starting at 8, and even though he was trying to be responsible by passing out at two in the morning rather than four, he still feels miserable. Not to mention the stale taste of beer that’s lingering in his mouth despite the fact that he knows he brushed his teeth when Scott dropped him off last night before heading to Allison's apartment.

“Our founding fathers didn’t give their lives for this.” He grumbles out to no one in particular as he rolls out of bed and heads to the shower.

All Stiles really wants in the world right now is to get to work with enough time to eat something resembling a breakfast before the rush happens.  He’s eaten cold scrambled eggs more times than he’d like to remember and he’s really not in the mood this morning. However, the universe seems to be firmly set against him having any happiness; he struggles to find a clean work shirt, even though he knows he washed a majority of them and hung them in his closet, then he can’t find his keys because Drunk Stiles thought it would be a good idea to hide them in the freezer, and then it takes three tries before he can get the clutch to pop right in the Jeep.

Somehow though, he still makes it to the Full Moon Cafe with five minutes to spare. Which, while not exactly enough time to enjoy a full breakfast, will at least allow him time to chug a cup of coffee. Scott’s already there when Stiles walks back into the server alley and he looks much better than Stiles does. It’s times like these that Stiles wonders what sort of witchcraft Scott engages in to avoid hangovers. He knows - he _knows_ \- that he hadn’t drank that much more than Scott, and Stiles feels like a dehydrated sponge while Scott looks like a sleepy, yet happy, puppy.

A puppy who practically lights up when Stiles walks in, “Hey man!”

Stiles smirks and forces a wave as he clocks in, “What’s up? You look remarkably well-rested.”

“And you...do not.” Scott chuckled, then handed him a sandwich wrapped in wax paper.

“Oh my God, Scotty. Have I told you recently that you’re the greatest? Literally the greatest.”

Stiles eagerly unwrapped the sandwich and bit into the buttery biscuit with an inhuman moan. A bit flaked off onto the floor but he didn’t even mourn its loss as the yummy taste of cheese filled his mouth.

Scott shook his head, “It’s just a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit, Stiles.”

“Right now, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Not gonna lie, I kinda wanna make out with you a little bit right now.”

Of course, it’s at that moment that Chris Argent decides to walk in with a short, blond-haired boy in tow, obviously a new hire that Argent wants trained. Well, he’s not really a boy, but definitely younger than both Scott and Stiles, probably still in high school. He looks a little wary, as all newbies are, but there’s a sense of assurance around his eyes that Stiles isn’t sure he likes.

“Good morning boys,” Chris gives them his trademark grin that would look fatherly if it didn’t have seem almost predatory, then gestured towards the new guy beside him, “This is Liam, I want him to follow Scott around for a bit before it gets busy, then we’ll have you making drinks and rolling silver until it calms down. Sound alright?”

Liam gave him a nod and started to open his mouth before Chris tugged him towards the office, “Fantastic, we’ll finish up your paperwork, then hand you off,” Argent turned his head back towards Scott and Stiles, “And by the way boys, no matter what I may or may not have heard, I trust that the two of you can refrain from engaging in an intimate activities until your shifts are over, correct?” He shut the door to the office with one last shrill grin, not even waiting for a response.

Stiles shoves his free hand in his pocket and whistled low, “Man, he is going to _eviscerate_ you if he ever finds out you and Allison are-”

“Shush!” Scott literally clamps a hand over Stiles’ mouth, “Are you serious dude? He could probably still hear you.”

“Dude. The door is shut and we’re a good distance away, there’s no way he can hear us right now.”

“Just...okay? Can we just be careful? Because I need this job and he will...whatever it is you said.”

Stiles paused after taking a bite of his biscuit and swallowing, “What’s going on? Did Deaton cut your hours again?”

Scott looked down and shook his head, “It’s not a huge deal, man. I’ve just got a bunch of exams coming up and if I don’t do well on them, Dr. Deaton won’t have a choice but to cut my hours,” He sighed, “Maybe even completely.”

Stiles huffed and punched Scott lightly in the shoulder, “Come on, you’re forgetting that you have the best study partner in existence right at your disposal!”

“Yeah, but, don’t you have your own tests to study for?”

Somehow Stiles felt like _Not really_ wouldn’t be an acceptable response. All it would do was make Scott worried about him, when there really wasn’t anything to worry about. Stiles didn’t want to talk about the fact that he was only taking two classes this semester, not for any financial aid reasons, but because he still didn’t know what he wanted his major to be. It wasn’t that he couldn’t think of anything that interested him; quite the contrary, everything interested him. For example, this semester he decided to take two classes that seemed to be pretty diametrically opposite: biology, which he found fascinating, and medieval literature, which he also found fascinating. He’d written papers in both classes on the influence the Black Plague had on trade routes.

Sure, it wasn’t like it was a _huge_ deal, it was only the summer semester anyway, nobody took on a huge classload then. But it was another reminder of how different he and Scott really were. Here Stiles was taking classes in everything under the sun hoping something would stand out in his addled brain, while Scott had been steadfastly focused on Vet Tech since their sophomore year in high school. And in other areas...well...Scott was busy trying to discreetly text his not-so-secret girlfriend, the first girl he’d ever had a major crush on, the first girl he’d ever asked out, the first girl he’d done more than hold hands with. Meanwhile Stiles, despite some very nice hook-ups in his time spent at college, was still holding onto the same unrequited crushes he’d had for years now. Although now it had really whittled down to one big one.

As if on some magical cue, Derek decides then to enter the server alley, “Fuck no, I can not deal with the Scott and Stiles Show right now, “ He mutters as his saccharine smile fades into the snarl that Stiles is more familiar with.

Stiles grins through the biscuit crumbs surrounding his lips, “Well Derek, you’re especially cheery this gorgeous morning.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “Do you know how to just not move your mouth Stiles? Just once? I closed last night, I opened this morning, and, as luck would have it, my first table was a bunch of hungover women from a bachelorette party.” The vitriol would have apparent in his tone even without the pained expression on his face.

Stiles couldn’t help but smirk, “Y’know Derek, I know how to do lots of things with my mo-”

Scott cut him off and winced, “Did they try to touch your abs?”

The way Derek’s jaw twitched right before he took a sip of his coffee was answer enough.

Stiles however, wasn’t quite done, “How much scotch is in that coffee, Derek?”

“None of your fucking business, Stiles.”

Derek gave them a pointed, wide-eyed glare and moved to the other end of the station, where Isaac was busy rubbing sleep from his eyes. The poor guy was supposed to have the morning off, but Stiles had overheard him earlier that week once again letting Erica trick him into picking up the shift for her. Stiles almost felt bad for the guy, constantly letting a little crush guide his emotions.

“You know,” Scott’s voice drew his attention back, “Some day you two are going to have to quit pulling each other’s pigtails.”

“Whoa there, Scotty. I admit that I’m not fully awake yet but I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Scott patted his shoulder, “Sure you don’t, buddy. Let’s just say that it’s not bachelorettes that aim straight for touching Derek once they’re drunk.”

Stiles was just about to defend himself - somehow - when Argent finally released Liam and herded him towards Scott before closing himself back up in the office. From experience, Stiles knew Chris would try and stay in there as long as possible doing food orders and sales projections until it got so busy that he was forced to help out. For right now, he was making sure that Scott knew Liam was his problem. Stiles didn’t envy him at all, he _hated_ having to train people.

Instead of acting put-out, though, Scott just gave Liam a huge smile, “So, this is your first day, eh?”

“Well ye-”

“Cool. You’ll like it here, it’s pretty laid-back and everything. Why don’t I introduce you to everyone and then we can go over sidework?”

“Sure I gu-”

“Awesome. Well, first off, this is Stiles and he’s -”

Stiles gestured towards himself, “I’m probably the greatest.”

Scott shook his head, “Try not to listen to a thing he says, alright? He won’t hesitate before telling you to do something stupid, like empty all the hot water out of the coffeemaker.”

“Scotty!” Stiles grinned and punched him, “You take the fun out of everything!”

Scott rolled his eyes, but there wasn’t any heat behind it, “Anyways...over there with the blond, curly hair is Isaac, he’s a really sweet guy.”

“And you can literally talk him into doing all of your silverware and sidework for like, ten bucks.”

“Stiles! Don’t tell him stuff like that!”

“I’m just trying to help him!”

“Whatever, man. And that’s Derek standing next to him. He’s actually a super nice guy-”

“When he’s drunk.”

“But try to stay out of his way for the most part, okay?” Scott rubbed the back of his head, “I guess we should take you around front then and introduce you to everyone else. Do you want any coffee or anything?”

Liam shook his head, “Actua-”

Stiles slapped his shoulder, “Good to hear, buddy. All that caffeine’ll stunt your growth.”

Once they left the server station, Scott led them past the kitchen and paused at the opening to introduce Liam.

"Okay cool, so. Finstock is in charge, he's the tall one with the cap-"

"Probably a good thing because, wow, his hair makes mine look tame." Stiles piped in.

Scott coughed, "Actually, kinda yeah. I can see that. Anyway, that's Greenberg over in the corner, he does the cold side. Jackson handles the flat grill and the window-"

"He's the blonde one with the douchiest face anyone's ever seen."

"Shut the fuck up, Stilinski," Jackson sneered, "Some of us are actually busy and don't have time to do a circlejerk right now."

Stiles pretended to look aghast, "Oh Jackson, you wound me."

“Oh my God, you two. I’ve got a trainee, okay?” Scott gave them an exasperated look, “Anyways, the last guy is Danny, he handles the saute side.”

Stiles batted his lashes, “And he’s probably the dreamiest guy you’ll ever meet.”

“Never gonna happen, Stilinski.” Danny chuckled and shook his spatula at him.

“Danny, tsk tsk, don’t say things you don’t mean!”

Liam cocked his head, “So why-”

Scott nodded, “I know, man. If Jackson’s such a douche, then why is he in charge of the window?”

“I swear to fucking God, McCall.”

Stiles redirected Liam away from the kitchen, “You’ll understand once we round the corner and you meet our expo.”

“Yeah man,” Scott smiled, “ _No one_ could be mean to Kira.”

“It would be like kicking a sad kitten that’s been caught in the rain and has water dripping down to its widdle paws and its whiskers are sagging cause its so sad cause its cold-”

Scott put a hand up, “I think he gets it, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged, “I like to paint a picture.”

When they got to the expo window, Kira was busy stocking and cleaning before the anticipated brunch rush. She was wiping down the window itself when she noticed them and gave them a sheepish grin.

“Morning guys, who’s the new kid?”

“I’m-”

Scott returned her friendliness, “This is Liam, he’s just started training today. Stiles and I are showing him the place. Y’know, introducing him to everyone. Then he’ll be following me around”

Kira chuckled, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Liam. You should be in good hands with Scott,” She nodded knowingly at Stiles and Scott, “And I’m expecting to see both of you a lot today at this window, right?”

“Of course!” Stiles offered, “We’re going to be the Han and Chewie that you’re little Skywalker-self needs!”

Stiles is graced with three blank and confused expressions.

“Cause she needs goods transported and you and I, we’re Han and Chewie, except you’re clearly Chewie, and we transport goods, as in plates of food...” He rubs a hand over his face, “I swear to God. I’m buying a copy of fucking _Star Wars_ for everyone in this place.”

Derek walks by at that moment carrying a stack of dirty dishes and makes obvious Wookie noises before tilting his head towards them and lifting his eyebrows, “There, happy Stiles?”

Stiles absolutely does not flail, “Omigod yes. I seriously love you right now.”

Derek spun around quickly to roll his eyes, “I know.” Then walked out of sight to the dishroom.

“That’s it. I’m dead. I will not rest until I’m sucking that man’s di-”

“Scott!” Kira interrupted, with a worried look on her face, “Maybe you should get your friend out of here before he drools on the expo line and I have to sanitize it again?”

Scott nodded, “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. I’ve still gotta introduce Liam to Malia.”

Kira winced, “Be careful, she’s only on her first cup of coffee.”

“Right...noted.”

Stiles made noises of protest as he was dragged towards the counter near the front of the restaurant. The waves of early-morning anger were palpable before they even took a step behind the counter itself. The espresso machine was busy making whirring noises as a tiny printer next to it kept printing out tickets. One look from Malia forced Scott to make the proper decision and retreat back to the stools in front of the counter, where at least they’d have a barrier.

Malia turned and puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes, “What do you guys want? I’m not making drinks for anyone right now, Lydia’s already killing me because she keeps fucking up-selling lattes to her first table. And if Allison rings in one more fucking hot chocolate-”

Scott’s face immediately went dopey, “Allison’s here?”

“Yeah, stupid. Her and Lydia get here at 8:30 every Saturday. Duh.”

His face brightened, “Yeah...is it 8:30, already?”

Stiles knew what that look meant, and immediately jumped in, “Since he’s out of it right now, I’ll introduce you to the new guy. Malia, this is Liam. Liam, this is the hottest barista in Beacon Hills. She handles all the specialty hot drinks and the mimosas and stuff. Makes our job easier.”

Malia looked Liam up and down with an incredulous look before speaking, “Whatever, just stay the fuck out of my way, don’t come behind my counter unless its an emergency - a real emergency, and don’t do stupid shit like ring in four cappuccinos and then come and ask me how long they’re going to take.”

Stiles rested his elbows on the counter and cocked his head to the side, “Agh, Malia, have I ever told you that, every time I look at you, I wish I was a lesbian?”

Malia narrowed her eyes and gave him a sneering grin full of teeth, “Oh Stiles, every time I look at you, I’m _glad_ that I’m a lesbian.”

“Ouch! Why is everyone here so hateful to the Stiles?”

Malia scoffs and turns back around without deigning to give Stiles an answer. Then, with the allure of seeing Allison firmly implanted in Scott’s brain, Stiles finds himself being tugged - along with Liam - back to the server alley. He can hear Allison’s cheery laugh before they even push the door open and knows he’s going to get a kick out of Scott and Allison trying to act as innocuous as possible with Chris so close by.

Lydia purses her lips and gives them a lascivious look as they walk in, “Lovely, who’s the fresh meat?”

Scott’s eyebrows furrow, “C’mon Lydia, he looks like he’s sixteen!”

“Actually I’m-”

Stiles wraps an arm around Liam’s shoulders, “And here, Liam, we have Lydia. Probably one of the smartest, most gorgeous creatures on this planet. Yet, she chooses to only use her powers for evil.” The finger-waggling is imperative, for effect.

“Really Stiles?” Lydia flipped her hair and grinned, “I think you’re just jealous that I don’t use my powers on you. Not in the way you’d like, at least.”

Allison rolled her eyes and stepped forward with her hands outstretched, “Hi Liam, I’m Allison. Is Scott training you?”

“Ye-”

“Yeah!” Scott smiled like he’d just promised cupcakes, “Your dad wants him following me around for a little bit. Just until it gets busy.”

“So far,” Stiles added, “We’ve just been showing him around, introducing him to everyone.”

“Oh good!” Allison ran her hand through her curls before pulling them up in a ponytail, “Well, I’m going to check on my table but have fun, Liam, okay? You’re in good hands!”

Stiles nudged Scott with his elbow, “Might want to check your expression before you start acting too obvious.”

“Oh! Shit, right, right. Thanks, man! Okay, Liam, let’s go take a look at our section, okay? We’ll make sure our sugar caddies and stuff are filled then check in with the host. Umm...who’s the host today?”

Lydia looked away like she was trying to remember, “It’s the other new cute one, I think. Young and sweet.”

Stiles ran a hand over his face, “His name is Mason.”

“Yeah, he’s my-”

“Oh yeah! I love that guy!” Scott grinned again.

“Oh my God, Scott. You love everyone.”

“Don’t act so jealous Stiles,” Lydia threw them a coy look over her shoulder before walking out into the dining room, “It’s not a good look on you.”

Stiles huffed, “Right. Well, you guys do your thing and I’m going to get some more coffee. Let me know if Mason seats me, alright?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before grabbing one a styrofoam cup and lid and heading towards the coffeemaker. Before he starts, he hastily scrawls his name on the lid, both so that someone won’t throw it anyway and so that someone else won’t accidentally drink the sugary concoction he’s about to make. Sure, the amount of sugar packets he’s ripping apart to pour into his cup is probably excessive, but he’s found it to be the most effective way to get through brunch shifts. Lots of sugar. Lots of caffeine. And a sneaky mimosa hidden in a styrofoam cup once Chris is too busy running food to notice what the servers are doing in the back. Foolproof plan.

The discarded packets are piling up when Stiles notices Isaac near him, sighing wistfully at his phone. He hates situations like this, Scott or even Derek would be better-suited to cheering up the sad little mop of curls next to him. And it doesn’t help that Stiles knows the real reason Erica wanted her shift covered today was so she could fully enjoy her date with Boyd the night before. No matter how annoying or clingy Stiles may find Isaac at times, he doesn’t exactly feel like exacerbating his ennui. And “ennui” is definitely how Isaac would describe it, the pretentious, scarf-wearing jerk.

But yeah, Stiles has to say _something_ , “So...don’t you have any tables, dude?” Let no one say that Stiles Stilinski isn’t empathetic to other people.

“Huh?” Isaac looks over at him as if he’s just noticing Stiles, then goes back to his phone, which he frowns at, “Yeah...they’re just waiting on food right now. I’ll check on them in a minute.”

Stiles takes a sip of his coffee, Perfect, then nods toward still-closed office door, “You know Chris’ll be pissed if he catches you moping in here on your phone instead of out there.”

Isaac rolls his eyes and shifts like he’s about to say something obnoxiously sarcastic when Derek bursts in from the main dining room, a stack of dirty dishes in one hand and a coffee pot in the other. Stiles would say that he looks pissed, but his face is kind of always set in a default “perturbed” look when customers can’t see him.

“Fucking Christ, Isaac,” He snarls as he walks past him to the dish pit, “I just had to refill coffee for every single one of your tables, you think you could find it in your heart to quit moping and check on them before they’re done eating?”

Isaac mumbles something under his breath that sounds strangely like compliance before finally pocketing his phone and going through the swinging door that leads to the dining room. No doubt tables are starting to fill up by this point, there remains just a short, precious time that Stiles can actually enjoy his coffee without having to gulp it in between helping his customers. He’s absentmindedly biting the rim of the cup when he notices Derek staring at him and raises an eyebrow.

“Everything okay there?”

Derek shook his head like he was trying to regain focus, “I was uh...just remembering that I needed to tell you that Mason sat you,” A smirk appeared on his face, “And I think you’ll like them.”

Stiles grinned appreciatively but rolled his eyes as soon as he turned around to head towards his section. And once he caught sight of the table in questions, he nearly groaned out loud; a group of three adorably attractive young women who were obviously either high school seniors or college freshmen. He knew he shouldn’t be complaining, but it was annoying how apparently everyone at the restaurant thought he had a type and thought that this was it.

As it happened, he had _lots_ of types. If his college classes had taught him nothing else, it was that he found a great variety of people attractive. Especially dark-haired, broody ones with asses that wouldn’t quit. Maybe he could convince people _that_ was his type. If someone ever forced him to settle on one, that’s probably what he would pick. Not that it would matter.

When he’s back at the drink station - making three waters because of course his customers would only want water - he can’t help but notice Derek still at the dishpit chatting with the smarmy dishwasher, Peter. Scott’s busy showing Liam how to brew coffee and Stiles needs something to entertain him, so he leans a little closer to listen in.

“-it just sounds like you’ve allowed your existence to subsist of a vicious cycle of alcohol abuse and anger issues,” Peter sighs and crosses his arms, “You know, a healthy meditation schedule can really alleviate some of the stress in your life,” He gives Derek a Cheshire grin, “And I’m always here if you need to chat.”

Derek nods like he’s considering Peter’s statement, “Yeah, I have to admit that’s a fairly spot-on assessment. But, you know, instead of trying to coerce me into ‘chatting’, could you maybe wash the fucking dishes and _shut the fuck up?_ ”

Stiles held up a fist to his mouth to muffle his laughter as Derek stormed back into the dining room. He chanced a glance over at Peter who looked like someone had just torn his favorite V-neck. That, of course, does nothing to quell the glee building in his chest and he sincerely wishes Erica was there with him because she’s definitely going to hate that she missed this delightful _schadenfreude._ Checking to make sure that the office door is still closed, he hastily sends her a text, then heads back into the dining room.

On his way to his table, he overhears Scott taking an order and his customers - once again - marvelling that Scott can remember their entire order without writing any of it down. Stiles snorts because he already knows what will follow next, Scott will bashfully smile and say, “Well, I’m just doing my job”, caking on the ‘aw shucks’ demeanor and guaranteeing himself a decent tip.

People seem to naturally assume that Scott isn’t intelligent, and while he can certainly be dull at times, he has a steel-trap memory for what matters. Stiles still remembers having to repeatedly tell him what the quadratic equation was in high school, but Scott can recite off-hand how to place a splint on a chihuahua, how to tell if a reptile has a compromised immune system, a seven-top’s complicated breakfast order, and all of Allison’s favorite songs to listen to on sunny days. It’s a beautiful thing.

Stiles, on the other hand, has to write down _everything._ His mind is too scattered, especially once his station starts filling up, to allow anything to chance. He once put in an order for three waffles and pork bacon when the lady had actually ordered an eggs benedict and Chris had nearly throttled him (to be fair though, the table next to hers had ordered three waffles so it wasn’t like he was that far off). He tried to make up for this shortcoming with witty banter, playing up a persona he liked to refer to as “coyishly handsome.” Which, for whatever reason, works really well for him; middle-aged women and sassy gay men love the Stiles. And occasionally his charm even works on the younger folk, although as he’s taking the order for his college girls, he notices their eyes start to wander and already knows why before he even turns around.

Still, as if to confirm his assumption, he tilts his head a tad and manages to catch a glimpse of Derek running food out of the corner of his eye. And as much as Derek intrigues him, as a server, Derek _infuriates_ him; because Derek doesn’t even have to try with his tables. Men love him because he looks like he can catch a fish with his bare hands. Women love him because he looks like he can catch a fish with his bare hands, build a fire to cook the fish on, then hold you in his arms by the fire and murmur sweet nothings into your ear. There are also some men who love him for the same reason.

It’s surreal watching him talk to his tables, because for every scathing remark or biting retort he’ll make in the server alley, he’s all sunshine and rainbows to the general public. Stiles has literally watched him give his ersatz, charming smile to an older man who had an extremely complicated order, enter the server alley and mumble expletives Stiles had never even heard before as he put the order into the computer, then went back into the dining room all happiness-and-glee once again as though nothing had happened. Apparently Derek took “fake-it-til-you-make-it” very seriously. And hadn’t yet “made it.”

Allison, however, was actually the ball of sunshine she presented herself as to tables. Which is why, as ridiculous as Stiles thought their relationship was, he totally understood why Scott was so enamored with her. And kids, man, kids absolutely _loved_ Allison. Most of her regulars were families with small children that would start shouting her name as soon as they walked in the door. Probably the only time Stiles had seen anything that didn’t resemble the very personification of “adorable” from her was when some half-drunk asshat tried to grope her as she walked away the table. She’d nearly broken his fingers before dragging him through the dining room and throwing him out of the restaurant. His friends gave her a 100% tip.

Before going to back to key his table’s order in, Stiles stopped by a newly-sat table to grab their drink order. Of course, because it seemed like he had to deal with the question at least once a week, one of the guys at the table asked him if the orange juice came with refills. Stiles tried his hardest to keep a stoic face as he responded in the negative, but he seriously wanted to find whatever magical restaurant out there was giving out free refills on orange juice and burn them to the ground. Whatever, at least this table ordered coffee from him, it was better than another group of “just waters.”

When his first table leaves, Stiles sweeps by the table as they walk out to gather a few remaining glasses and pick up the check presenter. He opens it tentatively and tries to hold in a groan when he sees what the young women tipped him. Unfortunately, the upset expression is still on his face when he walks back to the server alley and Scott gives him a worried look.

“Hey, what’s wrong, man? Did they not tip you well?”

Stiles sighs and runs a hand over his face, “Nah, actually the exact opposite.” He holds the presenter out so Scott can see the 40% tip the girls left him; it seems that “coyishly handsome” does have the ability to work on the younger crowd.

“But wait-”

“Ignore him, Liam,” Lydia snapped from where she was putting in an order, “Stiles has some insane theory that if his first table tips him well, he’ll have a poor day. And vice versa. It’s all situational basis wrapped up with self-fulfilling prophecies and has no actual basis in the real world.”

“Hey!” Stiles jumped to defend himself, “Don’t think I just fell into this theory! There are spreadsheets Lydia, _spreadsheets._ ”

Lydia pursed her lips, “And obvious bias on the part of the researcher.”

Scott reached out to rub his shoulder, “C’mon, dude. Just let it go, don’t let it ruin your day. Maybe today will be different?”

At some point, Derek had walked in and started pouring coffees, he quirked an eyebrow as he realized the conversation subject, “Oh no, did Stiles get a decent tip of his first table?”

Stiles shrugged, “Yeah, a really good one actually.” He rubbed a hand does his face, exasperated.

Derek shook his head, “Look, I’m not going to tell you that it’s all in your head. But, maybe, consider not thinking so much about it, okay? Try and focus on something else today. Besides, I’m pretty sure Mason is busy sliding tables together to seat you a six-top.”

“Ugh. Large paaarrrrrtttiiiieesss....”

Scott laughed, “You always do fine with larger groups, I don’t know why you freak out about them.”

“Scott. There’s so many drinks and so many orders and so much to try and remember even though I’m writing it all down. It can get overwhelming.”

Derek leaned over as he walked back out into the dining room, “See? Already shifted your focus.”

And the deep rumbling in his voice almost made Stiles’ focus shift again. However, he knew he wasn’t a teenager anymore, so he reigned it in. Besides, he had a six-top to focus on.

Time actually started to pass relatively quickly once the restaurant became busy; Stiles awareness began to cycle through running food for Kira, running drinks and refills for his own tables, running lattes and mimosas from Malia while trying to avoid getting sniped at, and smiling like his life depended on it. Well, maybe not his _life_ , but his rent definitely depended on his customers liking him as much as possible.

Everything was running smoothly, that is, until Stiles had to find a way to fuck it up. Luckily, he’d been at the window when his table’s food had come up, because as he watched Kira identifying everything and making sure that the food matched up with the ticket, Stiles noticed in horror that the Belgian waffle for his table was covered in blueberry compote. Which, yeah, the waffle was supposed to come topped with blueberry compote, but the middle-aged woman had made sure he knew that she was _very allergic_ to blueberries. Stiles didn’t even know such an allergy existed, but he had made a note about it when he was taking the order and even underline it three times to make sure he didn’t forget.

And somehow, he’d forgotten. And it’s not like they can just scrape the compote off, the damage was already done. Stiles ran a hand over his face, both upset with himself and pissed about the altercation that was about to happen, because the kitchen was never keen on having to remake orders because of a server’s mistake.

Stiles sighed, “Hold on, Kira. We’ve got a problem.”

Kira chewed on her lip, “Really, Stiles?”

“Yeah...fuck...They’re going to kill me but...I need the Belgian without the compote.”

The sound of a fist hitting cutting board was abrupt and unmistakable, “Are you fucking joking, Stilinski?” Jackson shouted, his eyes wide and angry, “I am so fucking sick of having to remake food because you can’t seem to take an order right. Do you know how much that backs us up when we have to do that? Do you have any idea how long it takes to make a fucking Belgian waffle?”

“Two and a half minutes,” answered a growling voice from behind Stiles, “And you’d be halfway done with it if you hadn’t been running your mouth, Jackson. So maybe you should do your fucking job and quit acting like you haven’t ever made a mistake.” Derek’s eyebrows were climbing high up on his face and his lips were flat in an angry line and Stiles had never wanted to kiss him more.

Jackson’s mouth gaped like a fish before Finstock cut in, “Seriously, Jackson, shut your mouth and make the damned waffle. There’s no reason to make customers suffer to prove a point,” He pointed a spatula at Derek once Jackson turned away, “But you talk to my kitchen like that again and you will regret it, young man. You hear me?”

Derek just smirked, “Clear as day,” He grabbed the blueberry-covered waffle and headed to the back, “I was in the mood for a waffle anyway.”

Stiles bit down on his lip and prayed that his apron was sufficient enough coverage, because the last thing he wanted Kira to see right now was the inappropriate boner he was sporting. Although he was sure anyone - even Kira - would have to deal with an inappropriate boner after watching the display Derek just put on.

Thankfully, the rest of the day went off without a hitch and before Stiles knew it, he and Scott were cut and rolling their silverware. Their part of the dining room - the furthest from the door, probably because Argent saw it as a punishment - had been blocked off so they could comfortably sit at a table as they filled their baskets up. Well, Scott had Liam rolling his silverware for him, which, honestly would have been fine with Stiles because Scott was always better to talk to when he didn’t have to concentrate on anything else. Except, Allison frequently stopped by their little rolling station and frequently distracted him.

Not that Stiles could really blame her, she was waiting on her last table to leave and they were definitely straggling. And he kept catching her looking towards the door and gnawing on her lip, which wasn’t surprising since the restaurant itself closed in five minutes. The last thing anyone wanted was to be stuck here for an extra forty-five minutes because people couldn’t read the sign outside that displayed the hours.

Scott nudged him, “So Stiles, did your day turn out okay after all?”

Stiles paused in his rolling to pull out his server book, “I haven’t done my checkout yet but,” He flipped through the charge receipts, “I honestly think I did really good today.”

Scott gave him a lopsided grin, “See? I hate to to say it but it looks like Derek was right, then?”

Stiles scoffed, “Yeah, even a surly, alcoholic clock is right twice a day.”

Allison giggled, “God, could you imagine, like, one of those tweeting bird clocks, but instead of bird sounds it’s Derek angrily giving you the time?”

All three boys busted out laughing as Allison deepened her voice and growled out, “It’s noon by now, not that it matters.”

Stiles tried his hand, “It’s five-o-clock, but you’re already on your third drink so why do you even care?”

Scott covered his mouth to try and stop laughing, “Which do you think more older women would buy: the Bird Clock, or the Derek Clock?”

“Probably the Derek Clock, we should be capitalizing on this idea!”

Allison smiled as she scrunched her face and pinched Stiles on the shoulder, “Stiles would definitely have a Derek Clock. You’d probably keep it in your bedroom.”

Stiles tries, unsuccessfully, not to blush, “I uh....why....I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Scott shook his head, “Dude, you’re not exactly subtle.”

“And,” Allison added, “It was so cute today how he jumped to your rescue from Jackson.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, “What happened?”

“Nothing!” Stiles all-but-squeaked out, “I just messed up a Belgian order and Jackson was being a dick and Derek told him to quit being a dick. Then Derek took the waffle.”

“Yeah, I had a bite,” Allison’s eyes widened, “It was delicious! I don’t know why I haven’t tried the waffles here before.”

Scott cocked his head slightly, “So did you thank him?”

“Why would I need to?” Stiles asked.

“Dude, c’mon, you know Derek. He doesn’t just do stuff like that.”

Stiles sighed, “Yeah, I know. I guess I was just too busy trying to make sure the order got fixed that I didn’t think about it at the time. And I bet he’s already left, hasn’t he?”

Allison nodded, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he and Isaac headed out like twenty minutes ago. But,” Her eyes brightened, “He’ll be at your house tonight, won’t he? You guys are still having everyone over, right?”

“Yeah. Gotta get nice and wasted before we get to do all this again tomorrow!”

Scott turned to Liam, who had been suspiciously quiet the whole conversation, “You should totally come, by the way!”

“Yeah, Mas-”

“I’m pretty sure Mason told me earlier that he was going to bring Liam.” Allison interjected.

“Oh cool!” Scott was seriously excited about _everything_ , “Just as long as, like, you guys don’t stay too late after curfew. I’d hate to have someone’s ‘rents on my case.”

Allison turned back to Stiles, “So just tell Derek then. I’m pretty sure he’d appreciate it, you might even break through that scowl-y layer of his!” She turned back to the rest of the dining room, “I should probably check on my table. See if I can hurry this process up a bit.”

As soon as she walked away, Scott hopped up, “Alright man, I think we’re done here. Why don’t I show you how we do our checkout at the end of the day?”

“Sur-”

“Dude! Didn’t you guys have to refill the syrup containers as your sidework?” Stiles raised an eyebrow, refilling syrup was the worst sidework, there was no way they were already done.

Scott visibly cringed, “Crap, how did I forgot that?” He looked over at Liam, “Don’t tell Chris okay?” Then slung an arm around the younger man’s shoulders, “Now let’s get some gloves on and try not to get pancake syrup all over ourselves.”

Stiles stifled a chuckle as they walked off. He could still remember the day Scott had left the restaurant with part of his bangs stuck up - a la _There’s Something About Mary_ \- because he hadn’t realized there was still syrup on his hand when he’d run his hand through his hair. Scott had stayed mad at both Stiles _and_ Allison for days afterward for letting it stay like that for over an hour.

Before going to the back to do his own checkout, Stiles took a moment to stretch in his chair and audibly moaned when his back popped multiple times. Thinking back over his day, he realized that it had actually gone smoothly, not the cluster he’d expected, or rather, that his research had led him to expect. So maybe they were right, maybe he should thank Derek. And maybe Stiles can cross his fingers and hope that Derek gets extremely aroused by gratitude.

 

***

 

Stiles is convinced that the older woman that owns the gas station near his and Scott’s apartment thinks they’re alcoholics. To be fair, either one or both of them goes in to pick up an 12-pack of something cheap at least every other day. And then there are the nights where they invite people over and practically clear out her supply of Miller Lite. He knows it’s a stereotype, but restaurant servers really do drink pretty excessively, and they’re not about to make a second run after everyone’s been drinking.

He’d feel better about it if Mrs. Shah ever gave them a raised eyebrow or a condescending look about their purchases, but she always smiles and refers to them by name and asks them how their days were. She’s unerringly nice and Stiles doesn’t want nice people to think that he’s probably an alcoholic. He wants to explain to her how stressful their jobs are and how frustrating people are in general, but in the back of his mind he knows that she understands to an extent. Which is probably why she holds back judgement.

And Stiles really feels like she shouldn’t. Because Scott is currently balancing four 18-packs of Miller Lite and somehow he recruited Isaac into helping them so Isaac is holding an 18-pack in one hand and three bags of chips in the other while Stiles has an armload of chips himself. If Stiles saw complete strangers carrying all that? He might crack a joke or two. But Mrs. Shah is still sweet as can be, even though she _knows_ that there’s about to be a drunken ruckus three blocks away from her store.

Scott raises an eyebrow when they set their stuff on the counter, “Dude, what is that?”

Stiles is confused for a second before remember the six pack dangling from his fingers, “Oh uh...”

“That’s Derek’s favorite beer.” Isaac has a smirk on his face and Stiles wants to punch him.

Instead, he stumbles over his words, “Yeah...uh...last time he was over he said something, um, about the cheap stuff we buy, not like, in a judgemental way because I don’t think anyone would turn down free beer, no matter how cheap it is but-”

Scott cuts him off with a gentle nudge on his shoulder, “Hey, that’s really nice of you, okay? Just don’t let everyone know, people will start making requests left and right.”

“Could you imagine? We can never let Lydia know that there are options.”

Stiles doesn’t like to think about how much money they spend on beer. Sometimes he wonders how they still have money left over to pay their bills considering he’s sometimes spent 20% of his tips on a given day on alcohol, up to 50% if the day had been particularly stressful. Eventually he’d address their collective drinking problem, maybe when he was thirty or so.

For now, he just accepted his drinking habit and the sometimes-weekly parties they had as an occupational necessity. And he always made sure everyone was safe about it: taking people’s keys, calling cabs for them if needed, and letting his co-workers crash at his and Scott’s apartment if it came to that. One morning Stiles had dragged his laundry bag into the living room and found Derek still sleeping on his couch. He’d yelped in a rather hushed and dignified way then ran out the door before he could do something stupid, like accidentally wake Derek up. By the time he’d gotten back from the laundry room, Derek had already left.

Scott’s phone beeped with a text from Allison shortly after they left the gas station and she was already there, with Lydia in tow, by the time they reached the apartment building. From the looks of the bag Allison was carrying, she was definitely planning on staying the night. The girls helped carry everything inside and started putting the beer in the fridge while Stiles grabbed the nice-looking wooden box resting on his bookshelf.

He’d found it at a thrift store when he and Scott were still teenagers and bought it because it was so well-made even though he couldn’t really think of a use for it at the time. The box was too narrow to hold his comic books and too small for video games or anything like that. It lived a short life as a pencil holder until Stiles turned eighteen and decided to put all the anti-drug talks he’d heard in his life to the test. It was a habit that the good Sheriff Stilinski didn’t know about and, if Stiles had his way, would never hear about.

Stiles knew his dad was a rational man, but also knew that he’d participated in enough drug busts over the years to have a harsh, yet narrow, view of them as a whole. And while Stiles could try to explain the difference between hard, life-ruining drugs like heroin and the relatively harmless ones like the weed he was grinding on his coffee table, he’s still not sure his dad would approve. But he’s sure that, one day, he might be able to sway his dad’s opinion with one of his perfectly rolled joints. Because that is one thing Stiles is _really_ good at, and he’s making a lot right now in preparation of the amount of people coming later.

“Hey!” Scott calls from the kitchen, “Think we can light up one of those now, before everyone else gets here?”

“Sure thing man, come and grab one while I finish the rest up.”

Scott eagerly picked up the joint Stiles held out to him and headed back into the kitchen. Stiles had figured out rather quickly that it was far more efficient to roll a ton of blunts early on than try and roll them as people wanted them. So he usually spent around ten or fifteen minutes grinding out a large amount of weed - most of it was cheap brown dirt-weed but he mixed it with a small amount of the good stuff that he and Scott pooled their money together to splurge on - and methodically wrapping and rolling them into perfectly formed joints. A true talent.

He’s finishing up one, bringing it closer to his face to run his tongue along the seam and seal it, when the door opens and Derek walks in with Boyd and Erica. Stiles doesn’t want it to look like he’s staring, but Derek is staring right back at him, with his mouth slightly agape and Stiles is kinda mesmerized by it. It takes him a second to realize that his tongue is still sticking out, which must be the reason for the look on Derek’s face. Leave it to Stiles to look like an idiot in front of the hottest guy in his existence.

Embarrassed, Stiles looked down quickly and hoped everyone just assumed he was admiring his handiwork. To be honest, the nice little pile he’d created was definitely something to be proud about. A lovely little uniform stack just waiting to be burned. Plus now the whole apartment reeked in a wonderful way.

Scott plopped down next to him with a grin, “Hey man! Almost done here?”

Stiles let the side of his mouth quirk up, “Yeah, I think we should be good for the night. Wanna light one up with me?”

“I would love to, but...” Scott’s grin widened, “Someone’s in the kitchen and just discovered the very special 6-pack in there for them. So you should probably, y’know, let that someone know who bought it especially for them. And then maybe thank them for earlier.”

Stiles knew his eyes probably looked like saucers, “Fuck, dude. Right now?”

Lydia sat down on the other side of him and grabbed a lighter, “Yes, Stiles. Right now. Before certain people sitting next to you get upset about the special treatment going on.”

Stiles jumped up and brushed himself off, making sure there weren’t any seeds or other bits sticking to his shirt. Allison immediately hopped into the space he’d vacated, smiled, and gestured for him to hurry up and get to the kitchen. Which, fuck, meant that pretty much all of his close friends knew about his dumb crush. Hell, apparently even _Isaac_ knew.

Speaking of which, Isaac was exiting the kitchen just as Stiles crossed the threshold and brushed him on the shoulder while giving him a knowing smirk. There had never before been a time when smirks annoyed Stiles so much, even if it seemed like Isaac was doing it as a friendly gesture. But none of that mattered as soon as Stiles looked up and focused on Derek leaning against his countertop, chatting with Erica and Boyd.

Somewhere in the world, there were people who had, possibly pointedly, chosen not to tell Derek that he was buying his jeans a size too small and Stiles wanted to hug those people and buy them a fruit basket. There really couldn’t be any other reason for him to wear them so snug, hitting every part of his lower body in the right way and resting perfectly on the boots he always wore when he wasn’t working. The jeans were enough of a distraction that it took Stiles a moment to realize that the burgundy pullover Derek was wearing had _thumbholes_. And - fuck - that was _adorable_.

“Hey Stiles,” Strangely, he was smiling, and it wasn’t the fake one he gave to customers, “Thank you.” He waved the beer bottle at him and Stiles wanted to curse the lighting in the kitchen because it made it look like Derek was blushing.

“Oh, no worries, man,” Stiles looked down on the ground and felt suddenly self-conscious with Erica and Boyd standing there, “Just think of it as my way of thanking you for earlier today.”

“Don’t mention it, Jackson’s an asshole.”

Stiles barked out a laugh and had to cover his mouth with his hand, when he looked back up, Derek’s eyes were locked on his, “Uh...yeah, that is _very_ true.”

“So,” Derek was still looking and Stiles couldn’t tear his eyes away, “How was your day? Did it end up alright?”

Stiles grinned, _of course_ Derek would want to hear that he was right, “Actually yeah, really well.”

“So I guess I was right, then?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I didn’t think about it at all during the rest of my shift, so your advice worked. But don’t worry, I won’t get used to it or anything.”

Now it was Derek’s turn to laugh, “Well, good. Although, it could just be an outlier, don’t forget to add it to your spreadsheet.”

Stiles heard giggles to his right, and that’s when he remembered that Erica and Boyd were still there, probably watching him creepily stare at Derek and wondering what was wrong with him. No doubt, Derek would notice soon that Stiles couldn’t keep his eyes off of him and connect the dots, which could probably end badly.

So instead, Stiles blinked, shook his head a bit, then turned to Erica, “So, how was your big date last night?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could just barely see Derek’s eyebrows start to furrow. So yeah, now that Stiles wasn’t doing it anymore, Derek probably realized that he’d been a little weird. But really, looking the way he did, Derek shouldn’t be a stranger to people wanting to stare at him whenever they got the chance.

Erica cocked her head at him and glanced at Derek quickly before speaking, “It was really cute actually. I picked up Boyd, his grandmother sat me down at the kitchen table and gave me ‘The Talk’, then we went to the movies.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, “That’s it?”

Erica gave an exasperated sigh, “Then we went back to my place, Stiles. But I didn’t think you’d want to hear about that part.”

And yeah, now Stiles is blushing, “Hey...that’s, that’s fantastic!” A stray thought enters his mind, “How’s Isaac dealing with all of this?”

Boyd shrugs, “He seems alright, he didn’t try and put me in a headlock or anything.”

“I don’t think that’d be possible, although I’d kinda like to see it.”

Stiles tilts his head and sees Derek looking at the ground now, almost as if he’s trying to avoid looking at anything else. And that...that’s not really what Stiles wanted, but he feels like he’s been pretty awkward every since he walked into the kitchen, so that definitely hasn’t helped. He lets out a weighted sigh.

“Well uh...thanks again, Derek. Enjoy the beer.”

Derek looks up and holds his gaze for a second, but Stiles turns and leaves before he has a chance to say anything. Sometimes Stiles wishes that he could just talk openly without hiding it behind a veil of sarcasm, but that would make him feel too vulnerable. And....no....he can’t handle being vulnerable.

The living room has filled up considerably since he’s been in the kitchen, which makes sense since most everyone has arrived in the past twenty minutes or so. Malia and Kira are curled up together in one of the armchairs sharing a joint, which is not that surprising. Danny and Jackson have even shown up, although Jackson is sitting on the far end of the couch and doesn’t seem eager to acknowledge the existence of Stiles. Although he seems perfectly content taking a hit from the joint rolled by Stiles. Even Liam and Mason showed up, although Liam had an angry scowl on his face.

Scott scoots over to make room once he notices Stiles, then passes him the joint in his hand, “So, how’d it go?” He asks in an attempt at a muffled tone.

Stiles takes a hit and waves him off as he inhales, “No worries, man. Someday I’ll be able to be around Derek without being hopelessly awkward. Tonight is not that time.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Scott gives his shoulder a little nudge.

“I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m weird for staring at him excessively.”

Scott sighs and acts like he’s about to say something else, but Allison grabs his attention first and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. He really would rather talk about anything else besides rehashing what just went on in the kitchen. There have definitely been better moments in his life. Which is why its a relief when Boyd suddenly appears in the armchair next to him and starts asking him about the new Star Wars movie.

One of the most amazing discoveries Stiles made at Full Moon Cafe was when he saw the background of Boyd’s phone one day by accident: the Millenium Falcon flying through space. Since then, they’d both indulged in multiple discussions about one of Stiles’ favorite series, particularly since the new movie had been announced. Despite being the best bro a guy could ask for, Scott just never had the desire to watch Star Wars so Stiles had been thankful for one other person to talk about it with at work.

Except, today he’d found out about Derek’s closet geekery, which means he might possibly have two people to geek out and debate the new lightsaber design with him. If it were somehow possible for him to be around Derek without flailing awkwardly or drowning in his own sarcasm. But hey, everyone needs life goals.

The next hour or so passed in a haze of smoke and discarded beer cans. Stiles was able to chat with other people and avoid Derek - and therefore avoid making an even bigger idiot of himself. Which definitely sucked, because part of him was inwardly cringing at his inability to just _act normal_ around Derek while another part wanted him to ignore his own gawkiness and just _go for it_. And he definitely wanted to, and it sucked that at work he could just slip into his “coyishly handsome” persona and find it easy - well, _easier_ \- to talk to him. But now, Stiles just felt like _Stiles_.

Well, actually, now Stiles feels soaking wet. Because while he was leaning against the kitchen table and listening to Lydia talk about theorems, Scott had stumbled into him carrying a full beer and spilled most of it on his shirt. For his part, Scott tried to dry most of it up with paper towels but Stiles could already see that his shirt was a lost cause. It was cold, dripping, and clinging to him, which made him even colder. He gently pushed Scott away and headed towards his bedroom to change.

When he opened his door, Derek was standing in the center of the room with his hands on his hips and a confused expression on his face. Stiles gasped audibly and Derek locked widened eyes on him. In his head, Stiles tried to tell himself that Derek was checking out the goods a bit, since the shirt was _definitely_ clingy and Stiles hadn’t started jogging for nothing.

Stiles decided to clear the air first, “Hey...uh...I just came in here to change shirts. Not that I’m complaining but...why are you in my room?”

Derek sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair, “Scott sent me in here to find his pipe, since we’re almost out of the joints you rolled. But I can’t seem to find it.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Why would Scott keep _his_ pipe in _my_ bedroom? He knows that it’s in the wooden box with everything els-Wait, you said Scott told you to come into _my bedroom_?”

Derek still looked confused, “Yeah...”

“Fucking Scott, man,” Stiles gave a strangled laugh and ran a hand down his face, “I’m really sorry, Derek. Scott is a fucking meddler.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he-” Stiles let out a deep sigh, “He sent you to my bedroom to find something that would never be in here, then deliberately spilled beer all over me so I’d have to come into my bedroom and change.”

Derek’s eyes somehow got bigger, “Oh.” He stepped closer, “Why would he do that?”

“Because he...He likes to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. I’m sorry he dragged you into it,” Stiles whipped his sopping wet shirt off and headed to his dresser for a new one, “Look, I do need to change but you can just head back to everyone else if you want to.”

“Wait.” Derek grabbed his bicep and turned him back around to face him.

And wow, they were really close, “Yeah?”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Stiles gulped, “Don’t want to what?”

Derek inched closer, “Go back to everyone else.”

His knees felt weak, “Wait....you....?”

Derek nodded and smiled, “Yeah. Do....you?”

“Oh my God, dude. Yes, yes, a billion times yes! What do you thi-”

His words were muffled as Derek’s mouth settled over his, way gentler than he’d ever imagined. Stiles moved his hands up to drag his fingers through Derek’s hair because that was something he’d always wanted to do and he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. He was also aware that this made him able to use his hands to push Derek closer and tilt his head. Stiles briefly considered playing it safe, then decided to fuck that idea and lick his tongue along Derek’s lips until they parted.

And it was like Stiles had turned on a faucet. Derek’s tongue tangled with his and ran along the roof of his mouth and flicked against his teeth and Stiles moaned like a fantasy heroine through every second. He nearly lost his balance when Derek took his bottom lip in his teeth and tugged. When he finally let go, they rested their foreheads together and took a moment to catch their breaths. Stiles broke away to lock his bedroom door, but returned quickly and placed his hands on Derek’s hip, letting his fingers play with the shirt hem.

Stiles blinked his eyes a few times, “.....Wow.”

Derek looked up at him, “What?”

“C’mon, seriously? I never thought you would want any of this,” He gestures down his body, for effect, “Why would I?”

Derek smirks, “Why _wouldn’t_ you?”

Stiles scoffed, “Really?” as Derek shifted and started tracing his lips down the side of Stiles’ face.

“Stiles.” Derek bit gently on the hinge of his jaw, then moved to his ear lobe, “You’re clever and witty, your whole face lights up when you smile,” Derek trails biting kisses down his neck, “I don’t even think you know how smart you are,” He bites down on the juncture between Stiles’ neck and shoulder, “And you are really nice to look at,” Stiles tries and fails to hold in a gasp as Derek licks a trail up his neck and bites his chin, “Especially the parts of you I hadn’t seen until now.”

That’s when Stiles realizes that he’s still shirtless, and getting a little chilly, despite the warmth of Derek pressed against him. He really would like to be under the covers of his bed, and with less clothing on. Suddenly feeling very impatient, he tugs his fingers through the belt loops of Derek’s and starts pulling him in the direction.

Stiles leans down to nuzzle again Derek’s neck, “This okay with you, big guy?”

They’re so close, Stiles can feel the vibration when Derek laughs, “You know we’re pretty much the same height, right?”

The bed bumping against the back of Stiles’ knees brings everything back into focus and Stiles takes a second to assess his current situation. Derek is in his bedroom, with him, and - most importantly - wants him, seems to have wanted him even before tonight.  Derek doesn’t taste drunk, Stiles knows he’s only had a few beers, and they’re both high but not out-of-their-mind-and-possibly-making-bad-decisions high. So Stiles decides to go for it.

“The only fact I can focus on right now is that you’re wearing too many clothes.”

Derek chuckles again and strips his shirt off right then and there. And Stiles absolutely, positively, hand-to-heart, swear-to-God, does not whimper like a fucking kitten when he sees Derek shirtless. But if he had - which he definitely didn’t - he doesn’t think anyone would blame him.

“Fuck, dude,” Stiles can’t stop his mouth from running, “How do you eat waffles and maintain that? I’ve been running for like, six months now and trying to watch what I’m eating and I’m nowhere even close-”

Derek shuts him up with a kiss, a fierce, wet one that is a lot of tongue and makes Stiles feel like Derek could eat him alive if he wanted. And he could definitely be down for that. His fingers are back in Derek's hair, threading through the thick locks, and he loves how incredibly soft Derek's hair is. Much softer than he imagined. Derek definitely seems to enjoy having someone play with his hair, if the keening sounds he's making as their lips glide against each other are any indication.

When Derek pulls away, it's with a grin, “Maybe I’ll help you workout, then.”

Stiles tries to scoff but it comes out breathless, “Oh my, Derek Hale can make innuendos, too!”

“Derek Hale can do _much_ more than that,” He growls out as his hands make quick work of the button and zipper on Stiles’ jeans.

Before Stiles can properly react, his jeans are pooled around his ankles on the floor and Derek is palming the obvious erection in his boxer-briefs. Gripping Derek’s shoulders for dear life, Stiles steps out of his jeans as gingerly as possible considering all of his brain’s activity has been centered to the area just shy of his belly button. He feels Derek’s fingertips teasing around the band of his briefs and Stiles knows that he’s going to come ridiculously soon if he doesn’t try and slow this down.

So he uses his grip on Derek to pull him closer for another kiss, which almost backfires on him because the movement causes Derek’s denim-covered erection to brush up against his own. The absolute pleasure and shock from the accidental contact is enough to get Stiles to collapse on the bed with Derek on top of him. At first, Derek breaks the kiss to laugh again, but the giggles quit pretty quickly when Stiles manages to flip them and straddles himself astride Derek’s hips.

“Stronger than I look, eh?” Stiles muses as he undoes Derek’s belt and tries not to fumble too much with the button and zipper.

Derek just moans as he lifts his hips up so Stiles can pull the offending jeans off. That’s when Stiles realizes that Derek goes commando and that’s a thought he seriously wants to save for another time. For a few brief seconds, Stiles just admires the beauty beneath him, all shifting muscle and slightly tanned skin that Stiles desperately wants to touch all over. For now he’s content to simply run his hands up and down Derek’s ridiculous thighs and intermittently rub his thumbs in the crease where they meet his groin because Stiles thinks he might get addicted to the sounds Derek makes when he does that.

But there’s a cock with a thick, leaking, uncut head resting on Derek’s abdomen and Stiles knows he has to get his mouth on it or he’ll be unable to forgive himself. So he braces his hands on either side of Derek’s stomach and slides slowly downward, keeping his eyes on Derek the whole time because it’s gorgeous how dark and hooded they are right now.

The smell is heady and makes Stiles want to bury his nose in the thick thatch of hair surrounding the base and maybe set up a permanent residence there. Instead, Derek runs a hand over the ball of his shoulder, half reassurance and half desire for Stiles to quit teasing him. With a grin, Stiles nips at the base then runs his tongue flat all along the bottom of Derek’s cock and Derek arches off the bed.

Stiles places his hands firmly on Derek’s hips to hold him in place, then wraps his mouth gently around the head and suckles at the precum that’s gathered there. He then uses his tongue to trace around the edge of the foreskin before moving down with his lips to pull the skin back. Derek is panting above him with one arm flung over his face and the idea that Stiles could wreck him so badly so easily is a definite ego boost.

Although, Stiles has known for awhile that he was good at this. But he’d never been told by anyone even half as blistering hot as the man quivering beneath him, Stiles thinks to himself as he bobs his head up and down then goes for the slow drag with suction, a move guaranteed to make Derek try to arch off the bed again.

Which he totally does, but then he grabs at Stiles’ shoulders again, urging Stiles off his dick and tugging him up until they’re face to face again. Before Stiles can protest not getting to finish him off, and he really wants to protest because he was seriously looking forward to Derek coming down his throat, Derek attacks his mouth with fervor. His tongue is everywhere, obviously getting off on tasting himself in Stiles’ mouth and while Stiles is definitely enjoying it, he still needs to protest.

With reluctance, he lifts up and braces himself on his hands above Derek, “Hey now buddy, I wasn’t exactly done down there.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “Don’t worry, you’re going to get plenty of other chances.”

And that makes Stiles’ brain short-circuit long enough that Derek’s able to shuck his briefs off with ease and angle their cocks together perfectly before Stiles snaps back to reality. He shudders and tilts his head down as Derek wraps his hand around them both. Derek places his free hand against the small of his back and urges him to rut forward and Derek thrusts his own hips upward against him.

The friction is almost too much because Stiles’ spit isn’t quite enough lubrication but the lube is in his dresser and it’s so far away right now and all his senses are focused on the warm hand encircling his cock. He opens his eyes and finds himself mesmerized easily at the sight of his cock moving through Derek’s fist and rubbing against Derek's cock.

Stiles lets himself lower until their noses are bumping each other’s with every thrust and tries to kiss Derek even though now it’s more teeth and gasps than actual lips touching. Unsurprisingly, Derek comes first, his hand stuttering and slowing as stripes are painted across his chest, a little bit of it hitting Stiles as well. It takes a moment, but Derek locks eyes with Stiles before gathering some of the come in his hand and using it as additional lubricant to finish Stiles off.

Stiles can do nothing but let his mouth hang open as Derek focuses on applying needed pressure and firm strokes, drawing Stiles’ orgasm out until he knows he’s on the brink. Then, Derek uses his thumb to circle the oversensitive head and Stiles loses it, shaking and dropping onto Derek’s chest as he feels himself emptying.

He lets himself lay there for a moment until he feels like he has enough strength to flop himself over onto the other side of the bed. They’re gross and sticky and sweaty and Stiles has never been more satisfied in his life.

Derek runs a hand down his stomach, “Don’t suppose we have time for a shower?”

Stiles gives an exasperated laugh, “I wish, dude. And there’s no way I can make it safely to the bathroom and back without being noticed. Also, there’s no way I’m putting clothes back on before getting this cleaned up.”

Suddenly, Stiles has an idea. He hops up and looks around for his discarded shirt. Finding it, he first wipes Derek off because he was taught some manners, then cleans his own chest off. It’s not the best solution, but it was enough to clean most of the come off. He starts to get dressed but pauses when he notices Derek still lying on the bed.

Derek frowns, “Did you just clean us off with your beer-soaked shirt?”

Stiles cringes, “Yeah, sorry. it just seemed like the best option at the time.”

Derek reaches over and laces their fingers together, “I guess we’ll just have to shower together in the morning before work, then.” Stiles expression must worry him because he hastily adds, “If that’s okay.”

“Jesus Christ, Derek, _yes that’s okay_. More than okay, actually. Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

Derek stands up and grabs his other hand, “You know I was serious, right? About tonight not being the only time? Because I would really like for there to be a lot more, if that’s what you want.”

“Derek!” Stiles whined, “You can’t just say stuff like that while you’re holding my hands and looking....you know... and _still naked_.”

“Oh! Sorry,” Derek jumps back and starts looking for his jeans.

He’s pulling them on when Stiles feels the need to add, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I kinda like you naked.”

Derek huffs out a sigh, though he’s smiling now, “Oh really?”

“Yeah, have you seen yourself? But I also like you when you’re not-naked by the way. And I think I’d kinda like to do that, too.” Fuck, he's come this far, why not go for broke.

Derek’s found his shirt and pulls it on before cocking his head at Stiles, “Do what?”

Stiles sheepishly looks at the ground, “You know...go on dates and stuff. I mean, this was really great and I really want to do it again, like, lots of times, but I’d also like to see you outside of work and just...do date stuff,” Stiles lets out a sigh and turns towards his dresser, “Never mind, that sounded way less dumb in my head.

He grabs the first shirt he finds and pulls it on before Derek walks up and puts his arms around him, “It doesn’t sound dumb.”

Stiles turns around and grins, “Really? Okay.....okay. Wanna, um, go out there and have a few more beers?”

Derek nuzzles his neck and nods, “Mmhmm, then maybe come back in here and...?”

“Yes. Yes to that and all that.”

Derek chuckles, then walks out of the bedroom, leaving Stiles alone with his thoughts for a second. For once, they’re really good thoughts. He wants to pump his fist in the air like John fucking Bender and then maybe do an embarrassing dance. So he does both. He’s got fucking Hall & Oates songs rolling through his head as straightens his shirt out and heads back out into the party.

He follows the sound of someone shouting until he reaches the living room and notices Liam in the center. Stiles had noticed that he looked a little pissed earlier, but now apparently something’s set him off. He calls out Scott for spending half of his time at work pining after Allison, chastises Lydia for playing dumb at work in order to get higher tips, acts like he’s going to say something to Isaac but then gestures like there’s too much to choose from, then tells Jackson that he mostly just hates him because of his “asshole-face.”

Stiles is starting to really like this kid, and then he turns to where him and Derek are standing close to each other, “And you two,” He pauses with a sneer, “I think everyone here would be a lot more relaxed if you two would quit circling around each other and just fuck already.”

And Stiles has to laugh because, seriously, he hadn’t known it was that obvious. Scott is looking at him with a pleased expression because he knows exactly what he put into motion. Stiles takes a chance and turns his head to check Derek’s expression. He wants punch the air again when he can see the faintest hint of a smile playing on Derek’s face.

So Stiles wraps an arm around Derek’s shoulders, “Y’know Liam, I think you’re right. We should probably get right on that.” He winks at Derek and can hear more than a few chuckles from around the room.

But Liam just looks like he’s done with the entire group, “Whatever, guys. All of you are crazy and I’m outta here.”

Scott gives Stiles a pleading look as Liam runs out the front door and Stiles is still incapable of refusing Scott when he has that look on his face. So he unwraps himself from Derek and reluctantly follows Scott outside to where Liam is stalking down the driveway.

“Wait!” Scott calls out, and Stiles is surprised to see that Liam actually stops.

They jog up to where he’s standing and Stiles places a hand on his shoulder, “Dude, that took some serious balls.”

“Yeah, man. You can’t just leave after doing something like that.”

Liam raises an eyebrow at them, “So you guys want me to come back?”

Scott barks out, “Oh my God, yeah we do! We had no idea you were this funny, how come you didn’t tell us while you were training today?”

Liam opens his mouth in a sneer, but then relaxes, “We should probably just go back inside.”

Scott waves him on, “You head on back in, we’ll be there in a second.”

After Liam is a safe distance away, Stiles nudges Scott, “You think he’ll be a good addition?”

“Not even what I want to talk about right now, dude,” Scott gives him a wide grin, “So...you and Derek, huh?”

“Duuuuuude! Totally your fault!”

“I know! And you can thank me later!” They start walking back in and Scott’s tone turns a bit more serious, “So...how was it. Wait. I don’t wanna know. But...is it going to happen again?”

Stiles smiled shyly and looked at the ground, “I hope so.”

“Is he staying the night?”

Stiles looks up and sees a familiar figure shadowed in the doorway, “I _really_ hope so. We’re going to use up all the hot water in the morning.”

Scott groans, “I immediately regret this decision.”

Stiles laughs and watches him walk past Derek, who’s giving Stiles a sweet smile as he walks up. Derek reaches out his hand and intertwine their fingers and Stiles loses his breath for moment when he realizes that he could get used to this. And he’d really like to.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tale as old as time, that of a one-shot that refused to stay a one-shot and instead turned into a multi-chapter fic.
> 
> So yes, more is coming. And for now, enjoy this little piece of fluff.

It was late. Late enough that Scott and Allison were already asleep. Late enough that everyone else had already left. All the lights were off in the apartment and most of the noise from the street had died down.

Stiles, however, was wide awake.

He hadn’t known what to expect when Derek had walked back into the house with him. Truth be told, he imagined that Derek would just give his hand a squeeze then hang out with Boyd for the rest of the evening. Then they’d just talk about whatever happened tomorrow or...whenever.

There had never been anything in Derek’s demeanor to suggest that he was the touchy-feely type. In fact, if Stiles had ever been asked what sort of animal best represented Derek, he probably would have suggested a porcupine; a particularly surly porcupine. And he would have been horribly wrong. Now, he could speak from experience, and he could say with confidence that Derek was much more like a labrador, or maybe a husky. A warm, solid mass that felt comforting to be around.

Stiles was just as surprised as everyone else when Derek spent the rest of the sociable part of the evening either nestled against Stiles’ side or on the floor sitting back against the vee of his legs. Occasionally, Derek would reach out and briefly run his hand down Stiles’ shin or across his knee; just a brief touch, then he’d move back and keep talking as if nothing had happened.

Now, Derek was lying on Stiles’ chest as Stiles idly carded his fingers through his thick, dark hair. At some point in the evening, after most everyone had left, Derek had tugged him back towards his bedroom, but instead of a repeat performance they’d simply undressed and climbed into bed. Stiles let Derek wear a pair of his pajama pants, a larger pair that were still a bit tight but served their purpose.

Derek shifted and looked up at him, “You okay?”

It’s such a dumb question that Stiles has to chuckle, “I don’t think I’ve ever been better.”

Derek nuzzles his chest then smiles up at him, “Good.”

Stiles traces his smile with his thumb, “It’s strange seeing this smile on you.”

He looks confused for a second, but then his eyes brighten with realization, “Oh, you’re used to seeing this one.”

The muscles in Derek’s face barely shift, but the difference is immediately noticeable. It’s almost eerie how different Derek’s fake, plastered smile is from the warm one Stiles has seen all evening. Reaching out, Stiles moves to smooth the lines that have formed on Derek’s forehead.

“That’s so weird how you can just...fake that.”

Derek shrugs, “I guess, to me, it’s always come with the job.”

Stiles shifts so he can rest an arm behind his head, “Are you really that miserable there?”

“Not completely, there are some good parts,” Derek smiles again and Stiles can feel himself melting, “I just...I’m not great at working with the general public.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love having you there, but why work at Full Moon if it makes you unhappy.”

Derek sighs and moves his body so that they’re lying side by side, “Right now I’m working on my master’s thesis and the extra income is helpful until I’m able to start my career in my field.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes, “Whoa, you’re working on a master’s degree? I didn’t even know you had a bachelor’s! I mean, I assumed you did, I guess, but I never really thought about it,” He tilts his head to the side to see Derek better, “What’s your degree in?”

Even in the dim light, Stiles can see a blush spreading on Derek’s face, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise nothing, but tell me anyway.”

Derek cocks an eyebrow, “My degree is in Library and Information Science. With a Business minor.”

“Library Science?”

“I know it’s not the most lucrative field but-”

“No no, I understand, ‘do what you love’ and all that. It’s just not what I expected. Is your master’s degree going to be in Library Science, too? I don’t even know what someone does with that.”

“Lucky for me, my master’s is going to be in Computer Science.”

Stiles let the confusion wash over his face, “Just looking to run the ‘Science’ gauntlet or something?”

Derek looks shy for a moment, “Are you sure you want to get me started? It can get a little boring.”

“Tell me about it and I’ll let you know if I get bored, okay?” Stiles reaches over and starts running his fingers through Derek’s hair again, mostly because it’s kind of addicting, but also because he knows it’s a reassuring gesture.

Derek sighs, “Okay, you asked for it,” He takes a deep breath and starts, “What I want to do, basically, is restoration of old books. Like Medieval-era texts and the like that get lost or forgotten about in old libraries. There’s so much human history that we’re wont to lose if we’re not careful with the older text we have. That’s also where the Computer Science degree will come in, I eventually want to start making digital copies of the restored books, so we’ll always have a record-”

“Like Project Gutenberg?”

Derek’s eyes light up, “Yes! But this will also extend to private copies that aren’t necessarily in the public domain yet. My family has a massive library that’s been passed down over multiple generations so I’m, naturally, going to start there.”

“That’s awesome, dude. Trying to avoid another ‘Library of Alexandria’ situation, eh?”

“Exactly!” The excitement in his voice makes Stiles want to punch every person that ever made Derek feel like his passion was boring or uninteresting, “Although right now I’m shuffling my time between writing, working as many shifts as possible at Full Moon, and volunteering at the library her-”

“Wait. You volunteer at the Beacon Hills Library?”

“Yeah,” Derek’s eyebrows raise, “About three days a week, why?”

Stiles knows he might be pushing his luck, but he can’t resist, “Do you read books to kids?”

Derek’s eyes narrow and he takes a long pause before answering, as if he knows that he’s going to regret answering, “I have...in the past.”

Stiles giggles, then covers his mouth to avoid waking anyone up, “That is about the cutest image I’ve ever had in my head.”

Derek’s face starts to look pouty, which is not at all what Stiles wants. Thinking quickly, he maneuvers himself until he’s hovering over Derek, sandwiching his face between Stiles’ elbows. Without hesitating, he lowers until he can brush their noses together, then presses soft kisses on either side of Derek’s mouth and his sloped cupid’s bow before raising back up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be condescending-”

“It’s okay,” And the smile is back, “Lucky for you, I’m the forgiving type,” Dereks turns them so they’re on their sides facing each other again, “What about you?”

“Me? Well I guess you could say that I’m the forgiving type, too. One time Scott-”

“No! Stiles. Why do you work at Full Moon? What are you studying? What do you want to do? I just...” Derek looks more open than Stiles has even seen, “I don’t know a lot about you and I’d like to. Know more about you.”

“Oh. Well, I guess the first answer is easy: I started at Full Moon in my senior year because Scott got a job there and we thought it would be an easy way to make some spending money,” Stiles hears Derek scoff, “I know! We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.”

“It’s fine, most people think serving tables is easy.”

“The only people that think that have absolutely no idea what it’s like.” Stiles pauses, “I...I’m not sure how to answer the other two except with ‘I’m not sure’ and ‘I don’t know’. Respectively.”

Derek looks concerned, “What do you mean?”

This is always the part Stiles hates, “I just...I haven’t exactly picked a major yet, or anything.” His voice trails off and he looks away from Derek, he’s not in the mood for pity right now.

“Too many things interest you?”

“Nah, the exact oppos- Wait, yeah! How’d you know?”

Derek chuckles softly, “I’ve heard you have conversations at work about the strangest things, umm...one time it was the mating habits of mayflys, another time I heard you talking to Boyd about dark matter...”

“To be fair, mayflys are incredibly interesting. As is dark matter.”

“That’s my point,” Derek trails a finger down his face, “You find everything interesting. You can talk with as much fervor about bat’s use of echolocation as you do about Chinese pirates.”

“Everyone should be excited when they talk about Ching Shih, she was fucking badass.”

Derek places a kiss on his forehead, “What I’m trying to say is, you’ll figure it out, okay? You’re a smart guy.”

Stiles huffs as Derek maneuvers him until his back is against Derek’s chest. While Stiles has never really been a fan of being the ‘little spoon’, he can certainly see its benefits, especially when Derek has his arm around him and tugs him closer. The warmth of Derek’s breath against his back is definitely something he could get used to.

“You know,” Derek starts, his voice muffled by their proximity, “You could always become a schoolteacher.”

“Dude!” Stiles flails until he can get his arms free, “That’s genius! Training up the youth of America, molding young minds, educating the masses, instilling a desire for knowled-”

Derek lets out a low growl and tugs him back towards him, “Not now. Right now we’re going to sleep.”

“Right...sleep.”

Stiles intertwines his fingers with the one Derek has tucked against his chest and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you enjoy hot tea, ugly sweaters, and Tyler Hoechlin's face? Omigod we already have SO MUCH in common, [let's be friends!](http://relax-itsjustbolognese.tumblr.com)


End file.
